


Number 45

by draiochtaa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Explicit Sexual Content, Incubus Dean Winchester, Incubus Sam Winchester, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draiochtaa/pseuds/draiochtaa
Summary: Sam is an incubus who's tired of one night stands, so he visits a sex-trafficking organization to find a more long-term solution. He didn't exactlypickKevin; Kevin picked him.





	1. The Warehouse

**Author's Note:**

> So this is me trying something new. I know this is probably a weird time to be writing a Sevin fic given the fact that Kevin's been dead for literal years now, but I wanted to try anyway. It's probably going to end up being kinda short (I'm planning for 6 or 7 chapters) because I'm really bad at finishing chaptered stuff. I'll try my very best not to give up on this one, though.
> 
> I've seen a couple fics about incubi and I absolutely love the concept of it. However, I'm pretty sure I changed most of the lore and completely made some shit up in an attempt to make it a bit more original. Either way, please enjoy this new project of mine and feel free to give me any feedback you may have.

Humans are sick. Really sick. 

Sam looks through the small window and into the "showroom"; at least it's clean, and all of the people inside ("merchandise," he'd called them) are dressed in simple white clothing, a large number printed on the front of each of their shirts. Most are sitting on the floor, either in groups or off by themselves. Some are absentmindedly holding hands. All are staring blankly in some random direction. Sam doesn't want to think about what these people have been through, and simply looking at some of them makes him nauseous. 

Humans are completely, overwhelmingly, horrifically fucked up. 

Sam is an incubus; he needs sex in order to survive. Most of the time, he'll go to a bar if he has to feed, since it's an easy, quick meal. But recently, Sam has realized that the easy way out isn't always enough. He's always starving, only getting the bare minimum out of his one night stands. Most of the people he manages to seduce are either drunk or angry at someone, and they don't usually pay much attention to him. The thing is that Sam feeds off of _their_ pleasure, rather than his own. And if they're not into it, there's nothing to feed on. Sam needs a better solution. He absolutely hated that he was doing business with this place (in his opinion there was nothing in this world worse than a rapist), but he figured he'd at least be saving someone's life. Yes, he was technically also here to kidnap someone for sex, just like anyone that came in here, but he _had_ to. He needed this in order to survive. Humans, however, did this for their own pleasure. Humans _chose_ to be horrible, _chose_ to abuse people because they thought it was fun. To Sam, that was infinitely worse than any monster. 

He's in an old warehouse in the middle of nowhere, where a man had led him down a dark staircase and into a narrow hallway. There, he'd asked what Sam was looking for. Male or female, how old, etc. He'd also smugly commented on the fact that they have "plenty of young girls," which made Sam want to rip this man apart, but he'd tried his best to keep his composure as he requested a male, not specifying anything other than the fact that he didn't want one that was underage. The man had raised an eyebrow, probably not expecting someone like Sam to be gay, but he didn't say anything else as he led the way through a door with a sticky note marked "males age 18-25" in scratchy handwriting. 

He stood now in a small, empty room. The man is standing beside him. On the back wall, there is a window that looks out into another, larger room. This room is full of young men; at least twenty of them. All of them are pointedly looking away from Sam. 

Except for one. 

His eyes lock onto the only man in the room that's looking directly at him. The man is sitting on the floor by himself with his knees tucked into his chest, as far away from the window as he can get, but his gaze is steady and unafraid. For many long moments, they simply stare at each other. The man standing next to Sam isn't even watching the exchange; he's picking at the chipping paint on the wall. Sam continues to stare at the man in the room until he moves. He moves so that his legs are on the floor in front of him, and Sam can now see the number on his shirt: 45. The man says something. His lips move slowly and clearly; the word is unmistakable. 

_Please_.

Sam's heart sinks. This poor man has been through God-knows-what, stuck in that room for God-knows-how-long, and he's been reduced to the point that he's desperate enough to _want_ to get picked. He undoubtedly knows exactly what he's signing himself up for, and he clearly doesn't care. Sam doesn't waste any time. 

"Can I talk to number 45?" 

The man turns from his spot at the wall, looking as if he'd forgotten Sam was there. He glances into the room, searching for the number Sam had said. When he finds it, he actually laughs out loud. 

"Asian guy?" the man mumbles. "You sure?" 

"I want to talk to him," Sam says firmly. He ignores the blatant racism for now. 

"Alright. I'll go grab it then." 

_It_. The word buzzes around in Sam's head like an angry bee as the man leaves the room. Sam is pissed. Really pissed. Has been the whole time, actually. He's never killed anyone in his life, always striving to be as good as he can possibly be, but that man deserved it. He really can't wait to leave this place. 

He glances back at the window when he sees something moving. The man enters the larger room through a door on the left wall and cups his hands around his mouth as if he was going to yell something. Sam doesn't hear anything (the walls are likely soundproofed), but Number 45 stands up, never once looking anywhere but at Sam. He keeps his head high as he moves toward the man, and allows his hands to be cuffed behind his back when he gets there. A few other men in the room are watching now. He still doesn't break his gaze until he's disappeared back through the door with the man. 

Sam swallows heavily and tries to mentally prepare himself for what's about to happen. He turns from the window and faces the door instead, shifting on his feet as he waits for it to open. 

It takes a few minutes, and Sam is really starting to get restless by the time he hears the doorknob start to turn. He's confused to see the man alone, with no sign of Number 45.

"He's down the hall," the man explains, upon seeing Sam's confused expression. "No need for all these extra eyes on you." He gestures to the window with a small grin. Sam doesn't say anything to that, and follows the man to the new room. They stop outside the door, and the man enters a number into a keypad on the wall. There's a loud clicking noise, and a light above the door turns from red to green.

"Take as long as you need, but please don't damage the merchandise just in case you decide you don't want it. Gotta keep 'em healthy." You'd think he was talking about a pig or something.

Sam clenched his jaw and opened the door. There was a small hallway, maybe about 5 or 6 feet long, and then another closed door. 

"Make sure you close this one before you open that next one," the man said from behind him. "Don't want it escaping."

Sam closed the damn door, and then he was alone in the small hallway. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he stepped forward and opened the second one. 

He closed it behind him, mainly to put as many walls as possible between himself and that man, and took in his surroundings. It was another small, empty room, much like the first one. The only difference was that this one didn't have a window. And Number 45 was standing directly in the middle of it, his hands still cuffed behind his back. 

"Don't hurt me," he said, almost in a whisper. 

"What?" Sam replied, confused at the sudden fear. Number 45 looked up.

"I'll go willingly. I'll never try to escape. I'll do whatever you want. All I ask is... please don't hurt me..." He trails off, and Sam really wants to give him a hug. Stepping forward was the wrong move, however, and Number 45 stumbles backwards at the sudden movement. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Sam tries instead, making his tone as reassuring as possible. "I promise." 

Number 45 doesn't say anything, but he does relax and allow Sam to slowly come closer. 

"I'm Sam," he says, trying to pretend he's not about to kidnap an actual human being. "What's your name?" There's a long pause, and Sam starts to think he's not going to get an answer. 

"Kevin." 

It's faint, but Sam hears it. He almost smiles. 

"Well, Kevin, I'm gonna tell you something, and you have to promise me you won't freak out." Kevin looks scared by that statement alone. _Good job, Sam._

"I... can't promise that..." Kevin whispers, sounding confused, as if that was the only logical response to that request. Because it was. 

"I know," Sam mutters, eager to move on from the awkward exchange. "It's just... this might sound... really..." He gestures vaguely, not sure how to continue. 

Kevin is staring at him, but he looks more confused than scared, so Sam counts it as a win and just gets on with it. 

"Okay. So... do you... believe in... monsters?" He whispers the last word, as if that would do him any good. Kevin only looks even more confused.

"Monsters? I... what?"

"Monsters. You know... vampires, werewolves... ghosts...?" 

Kevin stares at Sam like he's gone insane. He's clearly not following. Sam takes a moment to breathe. 

"I'm not human." 

No response. 

"I'm an incubus. I feed on sexual pleasure." Sam glances at Kevin to gauge his reaction. 

"Even if you... _are_... why would you tell me that?" Sam is surprised by the question. Kevin doesn't sound angry or afraid; just geniunely confused. 

"I don't wanna lie to you. And I don't wanna just drag you out of here without giving you a choice." 

"That's ironic," Kevin chuckles. 

Sam goes quiet. Kevin's amused smile fades quickly, and he glances up in panic, probably expecting to be punished for the snide remark. Sam smiles sadly. 

"I know this sounds weird, and I know you probably don't believe me, but you need to understand something. I'm not like that man out there [he gestures to the door]. I don't want to tie you up in my basement and just watch you suffer. I don't want to have to come in here like this and just buy someone, but the thing is... I _have_ to. I really wish I didn't, but I do. I'm technically kidnapping you, I know that. But I don't want to hurt you, and I don't think of you as a toy or whatever. You're a person. I'm gonna treat you like one." It isn't one of those long and emotional speeches like in the movies; Sam is just rambling. He means what he says, but he's making it up as he goes. Kevin hadn't said anything, so he had just kept talking and hoped for the best. When he finally ran out of words, he stood there dumbly and waited. For... something. Anything. 

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Kevin replied, many long minutes later. "What if you're just lying to get me to trust you?" 

"That's a good question," Sam muttered. He moved close enough to place a hand on Kevin's shoulder, and to his surprise Kevin let him do it. 

They studied each other for a second. Kevin was short and scrawny, almost laughably tiny next to Sam. He had the kind of dark circles under his eyes that could only be caused by years of bad sleeping habits, and possibly a vitamin deficiency. Sam swore to himself that he'd keep this man well-fed from now on. 

Kevin's hands were still restrained behind his back, and Sam towered over him, but he looked up steadily and simply waited. He wasn't scared. Sam took the slightest step back. 

Kevin's expression changed when he saw Sam's eyes. Sam had blinked, and his regular hazel irises had turned an unnatural-looking blue; they were faintly glowing. 

Sam wasn't scary-looking. Incubi were sensual creatures, designed to be able to seduce their prey rather than frighten or kill them. Which was why Kevin took a step forward with wide eyes, clearly under the spell.

Sam blinked again, and they were gone. Kevin took a moment to process what had just happened, blinking a few times before stumbling backwards until his back hit the wall. Sam also took a step in the opposite direction, wanting to give him some space. 

"Y-you... you're... it's all real." Kevin was mumbling to himself. He looked at the floor for a long moment. 

"You do have a choice," Sam said cautiously. "You don't have to come with me." 

"Monsters are real?" Was Kevin's response. He ignored Sam's comment; maybe he hadn't even been listening.

Sam nodded. 

"Would you... you'd protect me, wouldn't you? From other monsters?" 

"Of course," Sam replied almost immediately, though he was surprised that that had been Kevin's only problem with the entire situation. "I have a house. You'd get your own room. Food, clothes... you'd be safe." Kevin nodded. 

"Please get me out of here." Sam's heart sank again. This poor man must have been to hell and back if he was this eager to accept Sam's offer. 

"I will," he said. "I'll be right back." He hesitantly stepped out of the room, leaving a relieved-looking Kevin behind. 

Back in the main hallway, the man was sitting on the floor against the wall, clearly very bored and dozing off. He looked up when he heard the door open, and smiled as he got to his feet. 

"I was starting to think you'd died in there," he commented.

"I'll take him," was all Sam said. 

He'd had to pay in cash. Luckily, he'd known that beforehand and had plenty of hundred-dollar bills in his pocket to cover the cost. He'd done his research, as he knew a nest of vampires that bought their food from here, and he was quickly made aware that illegal human slaves weren't cheap. 

The man brought Kevin out with a bag over his head. Sam supposed the people here weren't allowed to know where they were, in case they got into contact with the police. Sam took Kevin's arm and led him back up the steps, the man waiting impatiently at the top as Sam took the time to make sure Kevin didn't fall. When they were outside the warehouse, the man gave Sam the key to the handcuffs on Kevin's wrists and told him not to remove them until he was "safe at home." He also insisted that Sam put Kevin in the trunk of his car for the duration of the ride. 

As soon as he got a few blocks away, he pulled over and let him into the passenger seat.


	2. The Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, just in time for the holidays!
> 
> This one gets into a little bit more backstory. Some of it might seem a little strange but I couldn't get the idea out of my head and figured I might as well throw it in. Plot points, right? 
> 
> Stay tuned for some sexy times in the coming chapters, and as always, feedback is appreciated.

The ride to Sam's house was long and silent. Sam was in deep thought the whole time -- he'd noticed something about Kevin. Something that he hadn't seen before. 

The entire time he was in the warehouse, Kevin's hands had been cuffed behind his back. Sam hadn't really looked at them at all. But when he pulled his car over to the side of the road to get Kevin out of the trunk, he'd seen something strange while unlocking his handcuffs. 

Kevin was missing a finger. 

His left pinky was gone, almost down to the knuckle, a very short stub in its place. Sam hadn't said anything, but his blood ran cold at the sight. He couldn't imagine what had happened to it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. It continued to bother him for the rest of the hour-long drive back home. Kevin didn't try to start a conversation either, content with looking out the window and almost falling asleep a few times. Sam guessed this was the first time he'd seen sunlight in a long time. 

When Sam pulled into his driveway, Kevin finally looked at him. 

"You live _here_?" 

"Yeah. Why? What's wrong with it?" Sam replied, looking strangely self-conscious all of a sudden. 

It was an average-looking house, with a well-kept yard and a two-car garage. The neighborhood in general seemed welcoming, and Kevin grinned. 

"Nothing's wrong," he mumbled. "It's just the last place I'd expect you to live." Sam grinned too.

"What were you expecting? Bran Castle?" he joked. 

"Honestly, kinda." Kevin looked back out the window at the house, feeling much more comfortable now that he knew he wouldn't be living in a dungeon. Sam ignored the comment and pulled into the garage. 

He made sure the garage door was closed before getting out of the car. Not because he thought Kevin would escape, but because he was still wearing the frayed white clothes from the warehouse and Sam didn't want his neighbors getting suspicious. Most of them were monsters, but there was a human couple that lived across the street and he didn't want to risk it.

Sam still watched Kevin like a hawk as he explored the first floor of the house, almost _wanting_ him to try something. Run to the front door and call for help, grab one of the knives out of the block on the kitchen counter, _anything_. But Kevin didn't seem to be thinking about escaping at all. He seemed more like he was making himself at home. 

He had taken his shoes off at the door, looked at a few of the books on the shelf in the living room, and made sure to put them all neatly back into their place before dropping onto the couch. 

Sam should have been relieved, but all he could feel was guilt. As he looked at Kevin's serene expression, Sam thought about his family. Did Kevin _have_ a family? Were they looking for him? Had he been in a relationship? Did he have _kids_? He seemed a bit young for that, but Sam didn't know exactly how old he was, so he couldn't quite shake the thought. 

"Are you okay?" Kevin's voice broke him out of his trance. Sam realized he'd been standing in the doorway to the living room for a really long time, and took a small step forward just to prove to himself that he still could. 

"Your room's upstairs," he muttered, and Kevin stood up to follow him, looking concerned. 

Upstairs, there was an office and two bedrooms. Each had its own bathroom. Sam's was on the left, Kevin's on the right. Kevin didn't get to see the other rooms, and he didn't ask to. His own room was fairly empty, with a comfy-looking bed and a decently sized closet. There was a nightstand and a dresser. Both were empty. 

"I'll have to get you some clothes in the morning," Sam said absently. "You can borrow some of mine until then." Kevin noticed some neatly folded clothes on the bed; a simple t-shirt, some sweatpants and a pair of boxers. Kevin doubted they would fit, but he was grateful to get out of his all-white outfit that made him feel like a patient in a mental hospital. Or a prisoner. 

"Thank you," he said. Sam smiled stiffly and nodded. 

"You can lock your door if you want. I'll order some pizza or something. Come downstairs if you get hungry." 

Sam closed the door when he left, and Kevin was alone in his new room. Sam's behavior had been strange, but he quickly abandoned the thought in favor of checking out the bathroom -- his _very own bathroom_ \-- and immediately started figuring out the shower. 

Kevin left his room two hours later. He was clean-shaven and happy, the shirt Sam had left for him almost reaching down to his knees. He'd had to put his own underwear back on, and he hadn't even bothered with the mile-long pants. Sam was ginormous, and Kevin himself couldn't quite figure out why he felt so comfortable around him when he had every reason not to. Maybe it was his weird sex-monster charm brainwashing him. Honestly, he didn't care. He felt safe here. 

Sam wasn't downstairs. It was dark outside, so Kevin assumed he'd gone to bed. Did incubi sleep? ...Incubi? Incubuses? Oh well. 

There was a pizza box in the kitchen. A piece of notebook paper nearby read, _Not sure what you like so I just got cheese. Help yourself. -S_

There were three slices missing. Did that mean that Sam ate food? But didn't he eat... sex...? 

Kevin had a lot of questions. But for now, he grabbed a slice of the pizza. It had been a long time since he'd had a real meal, and he surprised himself with how much he ate. 

There was still no sign of Sam when Kevin made his way back upstairs. He wasn't really worried, just confused. He wanted to know whether he'd done something wrong. He was tired, though, so he figured it could wait until morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept properly. He made a point of not only leaving his door unlocked, but also leaving it cracked open. He wanted Sam to know he trusted him. Maybe that would help. 

*

Sam slept naked. He'd made a mental note to get dressed before leaving his room that morning, and luckily he remembered. He didn't want Kevin to be too uncomfortable. 

When he left his room, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed Kevin's door was open. Half-hoping that Kevin actually had escaped, he allowed himself to look inside. 

The first thing he saw was the bedsheets. They were completely messed up, bunched up and tangled together in a big pile. One of the pillows had fallen on the floor. Within the pile he recognized a few of the extra blankets that he'd left in the closet, knowing it gets a bit cold at night. The most confusing part though, was the bare leg sticking out over the side of the bed. 

Kevin was still here. 

And he was extremely comfortable, if looks were anything to go by. Sam couldn't supress a smile, but he forced himself to go downstairs and stop being a creep. 

By the time he had poured himself a cup of coffee, Kevin was sleepily making his way into the kitchen. He wasn't wearing any pants, which might have alarmed Sam if not for the fact that his shirt was huge on him. _Sam's_ shirt. The sight made his heart swell, and for a moment he forgot that he was a horrible person who had committed a crime yesterday. Kevin smiled back and ran a hand through his messy hair to get it out of his face. 

"Sleep well?" Sam tried to initiate a conversation. 

"Hell yeah. That bed is amazing," Kevin replied, making his way to the coffee pot. 

"That's good," was all Sam could say. He was never good with the whole "morning-after" thing, and even though this wasn't technically that, it still felt like it. Only worse. 

By the time Kevin had doctored up his plain black coffee into something that looked much more like chocolate milk, neither of them had said another word. Kevin looked at the table for a moment, and sat down right next to Sam. There were 5 other chairs at this table, and Sam thought he would choose one that was as far away as possible. _But no, Kevin has to make things difficult,_ he thought bitterly. He says nothing, and continues drinking his own, still-black coffee. 

"We don't know much about each other," Kevin says quietly, like he's testing the waters. Sam tries to refrain from sighing out loud. 

"What do you wanna know?" he offers, taking a long drink afterward. He sets down his now-empty cup and turns his attention to Kevin. Kevin seems surprised, as if he hadn't expected that to work. He takes a moment to reply, and Sam wonders whether he's sorting through a mental list of questions. 

"Do you have a job?" Kevin tries, and Sam can tell that wasn't the question he'd really wanted to ask. 

"Not right now. I've got all the money I need." 

"Did you _used_ to have a job?" 

"Yeah. I was a lawyer." 

"What happened?" 

"Got sick of it." 

Kevin seems to consider that for a moment, and chooses his next words carefully. 

"Are you hungry?"

Sam turns to look at him. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, are you... _hungry_." 

_Yes._

_God, yes._

"Not right now." Sam can't have this conversation. Not yet. He knows that's what Kevin is here for -- _Kevin_ knows that's what Kevin is here for -- but Sam can't handle it yet. Even if he starves himself to death. The guilt would probably kill him even faster. He's been hungry for weeks, since before he even brought Kevin home, but he just can't bring himself to feed. 

Luckily, Kevin simply nods and drops the subject. 

"My turn," Sam finds himself saying, without really thinking first. "How old are you?"

"19." Kevin replies easily, clearly willing to disclose any information Sam asks for. 

_Fuck._ Sam tries not to react. He was hoping Kevin would be at least 20. Legal or not, he didn't like sleeping with teenagers. It just felt wrong. 

"When's your birthday?" 

"December." 

Two months. He couldn't survive that long. 

But he'd have to.

Kevin didn't say anything else. He was probably waiting to see if Sam had any more questions. Sam did, but he wasn't sure if he wanted the answers. This was his chance, though. 

"So, uh... what happened to your finger?" 

Kevin looked genuinely confused for a second, like he didn't know what Sam was talking about. Then, he raised his left hand to look at it. 

"Oh, this? It's a bit of a long story." He smiled though, as if it was a _good_ memory. There's no way in hell that it was.

"I'm listening." Sam needed to know. He didn't want to, but he needed to. He couldn't leave it up to his imagination anymore; the story in his mind just kept getting worse.

"Well, I've been on the street for the past couple years," Kevin started. Sam didn't know what to do with that information. "My dad left when I was a baby, and my mom got into a car accident when I was 16. Didn't make it." He paused for a second. "They couldn't track down my dad, so they stuck me in an orphanage, but I snuck out one day and just... kept walking. I sliced my finger open on a fence. Like, _wide_ open. And since I couldn't go to the hospital, and I didn't have the stuff to clean it properly, it got infected. Had to take it off." 

"By yourself?" Sam mumbled. "How?" Kevin smiled again. 

"I had a pocketknife on me. Used one of my shoelaces as a tourniquet. My mom was a nurse. Taught me a couple things." He sounded like he was proud of himself. Or he just loved his mother. Probably both. 

Sam didn't know what to say. He'd been expecting some horror story from the warehouse or something. As it turns out, Kevin really was capable of looking out for himself. Kevin was here, in Sam's house, because _Kevin_ had chosen to be. Kevin had chosen Sam. Kevin wasn't a victim. Kevin was strong. Smart. Resourceful. Whenever Kevin's life went to shit, Kevin stepped up and fixed it. 

Sam liked Kevin. 

"Sam...?" He must have zoned out again.

"Hmm?" 

"I have another question."

"Have at it." Sam smiled now. He was suddenly really relaxed. 

"Do you have a family?" 

"That's another long story," Sam replied, though he really wouldn't mind telling it.

"I like stories," Kevin said. He'd just finished his coffee, and now he turned in his chair to face Sam. Sam turned, too, and their knees brushed together. Neither of them pulled away.

"Well, incubi don't really think about family the same way people do," Sam started. "We grow up really fast, and then we're expected to go out on our own. We don't get time to form a bond with our parents." 

"How fast do you grow up?" Kevin interjects politely. 

"I looked like this by the time I was a year old," Sam said, gesturing to himself. 

"How old are you?" 

"Well... I'm immortal." Sam glances nervously at Kevin, but he doesn't look surprised at all. "I'm pretty young, though. I was born in 1884." He thinks he sees Kevin smile. 

"What's it like being gay in 1884?" 

"About as fun as it sounds," Sam chuckles. "I mainly had to feed on women back then." 

"You could do that?" 

"Yeah. I don't technically have to get off in order to feed, so as long as _she_ had fun, it wasn't a problem. I usually didn't even take my clothes off at all. Just focused on her." 

"I don't know if I'd be able to handle that," Kevin comments, looking a little disgusted. He was probably picturing it. Sam grins. 

"Well then it's a good thing you were born in this century." 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. Kevin seemed to be thinking about something. 

"Did you have any siblings?" he asked quietly.

"I probably have hundreds, honestly," Sam replied. "I've only ever met one of them, though. We still talk sometimes." Kevin was quiet, so Sam continued without any coaxing this time. "His name is Dean. He was a few months older than me, but he stayed at home to help raise me. We left together, and it was just the two of us for a few decades." 

"Did something happen?" 

"Not really. We just figured it would be easier if we went our separate ways. We used to fight over... people... it was starving us both. That's why incubi don't normally hang around with each other unless they're sleeping together." 

"You two could've slept together," Kevin offers quietly. 

"We're brothers," Sam said simply. 

"Isn't it for survival, though?" 

"I guess so. We never really thought about that, though. And besides, I have you now." Sam reached for Kevin's hand, and the latter didn't pull away. Sam was pretty sure he was blushing. "Can I ask a question now?" 

"Sure." 

"I've just been wondering... why'd you pick me?" That obviously wasn't the question that Kevin had been expecting. He shrugged. 

"I wanted out," he said. "I couldn't stand it in there anymore. And I figured, if I was gonna end up being someone's fuck buddy, I might as well get a cute one."

Kevin was flirting with him. The realization hit Sam so suddenly that he almost pulled away. This wasn't right. Sam was the bad guy here. What did Kevin see in him? Was it Stockholm syndrome? Sam didn't know what to do. 

Kevin decided for him. 

"What do you think I was doing to get myself into that warehouse?" Kevin was nearly whispering now. "I'm not a virgin. You won't break me or anything. I know why I'm here, Sam. I want to be here. Stop feeling guilty about it." Kevin got up from his chair, smoothly sliding forward until he was straddling Sam. 

Kevin still wasn't wearing any pants. 

"I have one more question," he mumbled, his mouth grazing Sam's earlobe. 

Sam's mouth was suddenly very dry. 

"What is it?" He choked out. 

"Are you _sure_ you're not hungry?"


	3. The Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My initial excitement for this series is starting to fade a bit, but I _will_ finish it. I have most of it planned out; it's just the actual wording of it that's slowing me down. Don't worry, though. I'm very stubborn, and I will stop at nothing to get this done. 
> 
> As always, feedback is hugely appreciated.

The silence was deafening. Kevin had threaded both of his hands into Sam's hair as he waited for an answer. He was currently burying his face in Sam's neck. 

Sam really, genuinely did not know what to do. Sure, he was over 100 years old, and he'd had sex at least a million times in his life, but he'd never felt like this before. His heart was pounding, he was sweating bullets, and for the life of him he couldn't get his lungs to work properly. He'd tried just about every kink in the book, been with just about every type of person. Hell, he'd even been in this _exact_ position before. Probably a thousand times. He'd never felt anything like this in his life. 

Probably because he'd never gone this long without feeding before. He was starving, and it really was starting to affect him.

At the same time, though, Sam had a strange feeling that there was just something about _Kevin_ that was driving him crazy. 

"Don't leave me hangin'," he heard Kevin's muffled voice through the ocean of blood in his ears. "I need this, too. Not like you do, but... I want it. Bad." 

Kevin lifted his head, and their eyes met. 

"You're young," Sam mumbled weakly. 

"I'm not _that_ young," Kevin snapped, actually sounding offended. 

_Fuck it,_ Sam thought. He shook himself out of his trance and stood up, holding Kevin in place by his thighs and carrying him into the living room. 

They wouldn't make it upstairs. 

Sam dropped Kevin backward onto the couch, and he gasped in surprise, but quickly regained his composure and grinned. Sam was on top of him before he could say another word, mouthing his neck sloppily. Kevin arched his back, mumbling something about "please" and "more." 

"For the record," Sam purred, "I'm _starving_." 

It wiped the smug look right off of Kevin's face when Sam slid a hand under his shirt to palm him firmly through his boxers. The spark of pleasure made Sam's skin tingle, but he needed more. 

"Not so tough now, huh?" he teased. Kevin didn't react visibly, but Sam could easily sense the arousal caused by those words. There was a lot of it. 

Kevin was sensitive, or at least he was right now, and that meant Sam wouldn't have to worry about not getting enough out of him. 

Yeah, Kevin was the one. He was a bit young, but Sam could make an exception. Especially if he was always this responsive. 

Sam wanted to drag this out, but he also really needed to feed and he wasn't sure he could keep teasing himself like this, so he pulled up Kevin's ( _Sam's_ ) shirt and nearly ripped his boxers off. Once they were out of the way, he could only spare a couple seconds to admire Kevin's hard cock before he had the whole thing down his throat. Kevin actually _squeaked_ in surprise, his thighs reflexively jerking closed against either side of Sam's head. Sam easily pried them wide open again, but mercifully held still with his nose buried in Kevin's pubic hair until he relaxed a bit. Damn, he'd gotten quite a rush from that. 

After a minute, Sam figured Kevin had either surrendered or he had somehow already tired himself out, as he went almost completely boneless in Sam's grip. His erection was still throbbing desperately in Sam's mouth, so he swallowed around it and reveled in the whimper it earned him. He glanced up at Kevin through the thin layer of hair that had fallen over his eyes as he started to bob his head steadily. 

After a few minutes, the waves of pleasure started to even out a little; Kevin was probably trying to calm himself down. However, Sam was hungry and desperate. A calm, relaxed Kevin was fine, but that didn't help Sam get what he needed. He doubled his efforts until he heard another whimper. 

Both of Kevin's hands came down to grip Sam's hair. His hips were instinctively rocking into the sensation, and Sam greedily soaked up every ounce of pleasure that he was giving off. He could have made it last, but he was in no condition to be taking it slow, so he moved one of his hands from Kevin's thigh to caress his balls. 

It didn't last long after that. Kevin said his name, but Sam ignored the warning and made no attempt to slow down. Instead, he made eye contact with Kevin and winked; awkward, but the only way he could think of to tell him _go ahead_ without having to pull away. 

As it turns out, the wink seemed to have been what did it. Kevin came with a groan, his grip on Sam's hair tightening painfully. Sam had always loved getting his hair pulled, though, and even pulled against it to see if he could get Kevin's balls into his mouth, too. It turned out he could, and the smaller man's legs were trembling by the time his high had passed. 

That was the most satisfied Sam had been in months. Kevin maintained his death grip, though his strength was steadily fading. He pulled Sam off of his cock before letting go. Sam had been comfortable there, and he almost pouted, but then he remembered that Kevin was probably really sensitive now. 

Sometimes he forgot he couldn't just keep the cock in his mouth after all the fun was over.

Sam really likes giving blowjobs.

Sam is _very_ gay.

Kevin, on the other hand, couldn't feel his legs. He felt like all the energy had been drained from his very soul, and he assumed that it was because Sam had "fed" on him. He didn't regret it, though. In fact, he even felt proud of himself. He had helped Sam. Sam was smiling -- he seemed so happy all of a sudden -- and it felt good to know that it was because of _him_. Kevin loves helping people. 

"You're good at that," he chuckled breathlessly. Sam seemed amused by the comment, but he stayed quiet for a few suspiciously long moments. 

"You might pass out," he said gently, his smile suddenly fading into a look of concern. "You'll be fine, but... I took too much. Sorry." He pulled Kevin's shirt back down as he spoke. 

"Take whatever you need," was Kevin's response. "I don't mind a quick nap." Sam weakly returned Kevin's grin. 

*

Kevin did pass out. When he woke up, he was back in his bed. Thankfully, his boxers were still gone (he'd had to make do with that same pair for days now), and he hoped Sam had either put them in the wash or thrown them away. He sat up a little and glanced around, finding a glass of water and a few granola bars on his nightstand alongside another note. 

_Do NOT try to stand up until you've eaten something. Trust me. -S_

Kevin rolled his eyes, but he figured Sam must know what he's talking about, so he picked up one of the granola bars. He smiled to himself when he noticed that each one was a different flavor. Sam was trying so hard to make him happy, and it was adorable. 

He ate all three. 

He drained the glass of water fairly quickly, and then he immediately wanted to go look for Sam. He was a bit dizzy, but he managed. He almost tripped on the two giant plastic bags outside his door, though.

They were full of clothes. Some t-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, socks, a cozy-looking hoodie, a couple sweaters, two pairs of shoes, and plenty of new boxers. He could've cried. Sam was such a sweetheart. 

The price tags were daunting. He knew that Sam had been a lawyer, probably for multiple lifetimes, so money likely wasn't an issue. But he still didn't feel like he deserved such _nice_ clothes. A couple cheap outfits, sure. But these were good, brand-new, brand-name clothes. They were expensive. He'd have to make up for it somehow. 

He put everything away very meticulously. He may have been in a hurry to get back to Sam, but back when he still lived with his mom, there was little that he cared about more than a well-organized bedroom. Other than his grades, of course. And, obviously, his mom. 

He still remembered his old system. Short sleeved shirts on the left side of the closet, sweaters in the middle, and hoodies on the right. Shoes stayed in their boxes on the shelf. Jeans in the bottom drawer of the dresser, sweatpants in the drawer above. Underwear on the left side of the top drawer, socks on the right side. There was an empty drawer when he got done, so he decided he'd use it for shorts and particularly fluffy pajama bottoms, if he ever got any. Kevin was very particular with his clothes, and he'd always made a fuss whenever his mom mistakenly put something in the wrong place. He'd always have to tell her, _if it's a shirt, it_ never _goes in the dresser under any circumstances._ He hated the look of a shirt that had been folded, and preferred to hang them all in the closet instead. Eventually, she got sick of dealing with it and made him do his own laundry. He missed the days when all he'd had to worry about was finding a sweater among his jeans. 

With everything in its proper place, he felt much better. Almost like a piece of his old life had somehow survived the years of hell that he'd been through. Maybe this new life with Sam would be just as good. He hoped so. 

He didn't really want to change clothes yet, though, and went downstairs in nothing but Sam's t-shirt. It smelled good, and it was comfortable. Maybe Sam would let him keep it.

Speaking of Sam, he had apparently been waiting very impatiently in the kitchen, and jumped out of his chair the second Kevin walked in.

"How are you feeling? Did you eat anything?" he asked hurriedly, reaching out to touch Kevin's shoulder but deciding against it and dropping his hand back down at his side. 

"I'm okay," was all Kevin said at first. He'd never gotten used to accepting help from other people, and his years on the street had only made the habit worse. He was a little uncomfortable with Sam's worrying, but he reminded himself to appreciate the sentiment. "Thanks." Sam nodded. 

"And did you get the clothes? I was gonna take you with me, but you were sleeping and I just wanted to get it done. I felt bad that you didn't have anything to wear, you know? And if anything doesn't fit, or you wanna get more, we can always-" 

"Sam."

"Hmm?"

"They're fine. Thank you." 

Sam nodded again. It was quiet for a moment, and Kevin realized that Sam was waiting for him to make the first move. He wasn't sure what to do either, so he changed the subject. 

"How long was I out?" Sam glanced at the clock for a second.

"About 4 hours," he mumbled. "...I'm really sorry." 

"Don't start that," Kevin snapped. "I'm fine. Really. And I'm not mad at you or whatever. I'm glad I could help." 

"I could've handled it better," Sam replied. He was almost whispering.

"Maybe," Kevin agreed. "But I don't care." Sam had to smile at that. 

"You're crazy." 

"Never said I wasn't." 

Sam seemed content for now, and Kevin was proud of himself for having calmed him down. They spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch -- Kevin still almost naked -- and taking turns asking each other more questions. 

It quickly became their favorite game. 

Kevin now knew that Sam ate regular food sometimes to take the edge off of his _real_ hunger. Apparently, Sam liked food, and could eat it if he needed to, but usually he didn't bother. Kevin had never thought to look in the fridge, but Sam mentioned there was nothing in there but bottled water. Apparently, everything needs water. 

Kevin also learned that because Sam didn't necessarily need to eat food, he was indifferent to the taste. This must have been why he hadn't bothered to put anything in his coffee that morning. There was cream and sugar available, but neither had even been touched yet. He had probably bought them the day before and set them out just for Kevin. 

Sam asked much simpler questions. His favorite hobbies. What he liked to eat. His favorite book. There wasn't anything else to ask, really. Kevin was a human, and Sam knew everything there was to know about humans. Kevin knew nothing about this whole new realm of supernatural beings, however, so it was obvious that he'd have a lot more questions. Sam understood that, and whenever he ran out of his own questions, he just let Kevin keep asking whatever he wanted. 

"What's it like being immortal? Like, legally?" 

"I move around a lot. Every ten years or so. New town, new name. I just start over." 

"What's your real name?" 

"Sam Winchester. Right now, though, I'm Sam Wesson." 

"You don't change your first name?" 

"It's hard enough already to keep up with the last one," he chuckles. "We've got people in the government to help cover our tracks. Demons, mostly." 

Kevin knew about demons. Sam had told him that they have a leader; a "King." He has workers in almost every field to help keep creatures like Sam hidden. As far as the world was concerned, there's no such thing as monsters. Mr. Crowley had apparently helped keep it that way. 

Kevin still hoped he'd never have to meet this Crowley guy. He didn't seem like the friendly type. "King of Hell" isn't a very welcoming title. 

"So uh... do you have any cool powers?" He'd been curious ever since he'd seen Sam's real eyes. Sam grinned.

"Not exactly," he said. "Compared to other things, I'm not really all that special." 

"You can do _some_ stuff, though, right?" 

"I guess. It's nothing crazy, though. I mean, you've seen the eyes. That's pretty much it. I can change my appearance a little, but I can't, like, teleport or anything." 

"Change your appearance?" 

"Just a little bit. Small features. Only shapeshifters can change _everything_."

"What can you change?" 

"Eye color. Facial hair. Simple stuff." 

"So you can like... grow a full beard out of nowhere?" 

"Probably. I can't get rid of one, though. I'd have to shave it off manually."

"This is your real face, though, right? No alterations?" 

Sam didn't answer. 

"Sam, are you _hiding_ from me?" Kevin exclaimed, trying to sound shocked. He was smiling, though, and Sam smiled back. 

"It's nothing major," he said quickly. "It's just... I have the world's _biggest_ nose." He looked a little shy. 

"I wanna see it," Kevin said immediately. When Sam hesitated, he continued. "Sam, you probably have the world's biggest _everything_." To prove his point, he holds his hand against Sam's and chuckles at the size difference. "And besides, what happened to the whole 'I don't wanna lie to you' thing?" 

"This isn't _lying_ ," Sam mumbled. Neither of them were actually upset, however, and Kevin laughed again. 

"Show me," he insisted, moving so he was right in front of Sam. Sam smiled and leaned back a bit, turning his head to the side. 

Kevin didn't say anything, watching intently as Sam's nose started to change. It stuck out a bit further, and it was pointier (the fake one had been more rounded), but Kevin already liked it way more. This was the real Sam.

Kevin liked the real Sam. 

Sam turned to face him again, and Kevin also caught sight of a tiny mole next to his nose that hadn't been there before. He smiled. 

" _That's_ what you were so worried about?" Sam shrugged, but he smiled back. 

"It's huge," he complained. 

"I think it's cute," Kevin offered, wondering if Sam was as weirded out by that statement as he was. He had meant it, but it sounded strange out loud. Sam was nearly twice his size and could snap him in half if he wanted to. He was anything but _cute_. 

Sam blushed anyway. 

"It gets in the way, though," he tried quietly. 

"Gets in the way of _what_?" Kevin challenged. 

"This." 

And then Sam was kissing him. 

Kevin was briefly reminded of something that he'd heard somewhere years ago about incubus saliva; that it was a predatory thing, used to subdue victims with a single kiss. He hadn't believed in incubi at the time, of course. It had been in a fantasy novel or some old legend or something, and it might have even used a different name. Succubus. Or a siren, maybe? Either way, the fact resurfaced in his brain even as he returned Sam's kiss. 

He discovered that he didn't care. 

He also quickly discovered that Sam's saliva _wasn't_ actually doing anything to him. He didn't feel tired, or horny, or whatever else the legend might have mentioned. It just felt like a normal kiss. 

Probably another myth, like vampires that sparkle in the sunlight. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Sam muttered, pulling away suddenly as if he'd been burned. Kevin's eyes blinked open, and he stared at Sam for a long moment. 

"You don't have to keep apologizing, you know," he mumbled almost bitterly. "Even if you are just taking advantage of me or whatever, I don't care. I want to do this." He'd mainly only said that because he knew that Sam _wasn't_ taking advantage of him. If he had been, Kevin would have stopped it himself. 

"I would _never_ take advantage of you," Sam replied, sounding hurt. 

"Then what are you so worried about?" 

Sam couldn't answer that. Kevin hoped it was because he finally understood that he didn't need to be so careful around him anymore. Whatever Sam had decided, it led him to hesitantly reconnect their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting some serious writer's block whenever things get sexual, so don't expect too much more of it beyond the next chapter. I'm not uncomfortable with it or anything, it's just hard to write for some reason. I do have plans for some actual sex, but it might take a while.


	4. The Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been about a week since my last update, but you guys have no _idea_ how long this damn chapter took me to write. I started it before Thanksgiving. Over two months ago. I have no idea why it's so difficult for me to write smut, but it's a recurring problem even though it's basically all I write. 
> 
> As you can probably guess from the name, this chapter is 92% porn. You're welcome. 
> 
> I didn't look over this, so sorry if there are any mistakes.

Over the next two months, Sam had had to feed only two more times. Kevin knew he was drawing it out, trying to go as long as he could before he finally caved, and as a result he "took too much" every time, and Kevin would pass out again. 

Kevin insisted that it was fine. After the last time it happened, Sam started believing him. 

They had made a deal. Or, _Kevin_ had made a deal. The day Kevin turned 20 years old, Sam would stop starving himself. He'd feed exactly as often as he needed to. And he'd do it right. 

Up until now, Sam had only ever gone as far as a blowjob. Apparently, he still felt guilty about Kevin being so young. So guilty, in fact, that Kevin had never even seen him naked. He always kept his clothes on, and insisted that he didn't need any reciprocation. And while Kevin knew that was true, he still didn't like it. 

Which was why today, on Kevin's 20th birthday, Sam was finally going to fuck him. And he wasn't allowed to argue. 

Kevin had learned all the signs to look for when Sam was hungry. He got irritable, and he didn't sleep as much. He got dark circles under his eyes, and he was much more likely to disappear into his room for most of the day. The most obvious sign, though (and usually Kevin's last straw), was when he'd start eating Kevin's food. 

Kevin had started writing up grocery lists, and Sam would pick everything up for him. They'd gone together a few times, but Sam liked to go early in the morning and Kevin preferred to sleep in. Sam didn't know how to cook (for obvious reasons), so Kevin had taken it upon himself to start learning. He made simple things, and normally ate in his room. When he went back down to the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge, he'd discover that whatever he'd made was now suspiciously missing. 

Last night, for example, he'd made enough macaroni and cheese to feed five people, and only ever got to eat one bowl before the whole pot was empty. 

And now here they were. Kevin was sitting cross-legged on Sam's bed and watching the taller man stare blankly at him from the doorway. 

"You promised," Kevin prompted. 

"I know I did," Sam replied, "but can't we at least wait a few hours? It's barely noon." 

"I'm done waiting, Sam. You're starving again." 

"No I'm not." 

"Then where's all the food I made last night?" 

Sam looked exactly like a scorned puppy. He didn't argue, but he didn't move either. 

"Stop doing this to yourself," Kevin said quietly. Sam only looked at him for a long time, probably trying to figure out what to do. After a few more moments, he seemed to reach a decision, and he moved forward to meet Kevin on the bed. 

Kevin got up onto his knees so that he could pull Sam closer, greeting him with a kiss. This lasted a while before Sam seemed to finally calm down a bit, lightly nudging Kevin onto his back and climbing on top of him. 

Kevin loved when Sam got like this. He always knew exactly what to do to make Kevin squirm underneath him, and every movement had a purpose. He was confident, but still so gentle; he took control so easily, and Kevin would just melt under his touch. 

"You wanna top, or should I?" he heard Sam mumble, and almost laughed out loud at the thought. 

"What do you think?" 

Sam chuckled, and he had Kevin on his stomach in a matter of seconds. Kevin fell silent at the sudden movement, allowing Sam to manhandle him and swallowing thickly when he felt warm lips tracing the shell of his ear. 

"You love this, don't you?" Sam purred, laying down on top of Kevin and slipping a hand into the back of his sweatpants. "You're just _begging_ for someone to put you in your place." 

Kevin's heart is pounding. It's like Sam read his mind. He supposes Sam's done this thousands of times before, and he probably knows a brat when he sees one. Still, he's never felt so turned on in his life. 

The reality of the situation hits him all at once; he's in Sam's room for the first time, on Sam's bed, his face buried in Sam's pillow, his hands gripping Sam's sheets. This is Sam's territory. He's never even been in here before. He came in without permission when Sam had left to raid the kitchen for the third time that day, hoping to confront him when he got back. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now he's completely surrounded in nothing but _Sam_. He's trapped. He should be terrified, but the thrill of being in Sam's most personal space is oddly comforting. He arches his back and hopes that it's a good enough answer. 

Suddenly, Sam's weight is gone and Kevin almost whines at the loss, but he can hear the rustle of clothes falling to the floor and he scrambles up to watch. Sam's shirt is gone, and he's sliding off the bed to get his pants off. Left in nothing but his boxers, he's just so beautiful that Kevin can't help but stare. 

Sam notices him watching -- of course -- and smirks. He waves for Kevin to get up, and he does. Kevin doesn't know what Sam's plan is, but he has to admit that a chill of excitement runs through him as they simply stand and look at each other. Something about Sam's gaze makes him feel very vulnerable, as if _he's_ the one that's almost naked. 

Sam comes closer, gets an arm around Kevin's waist, tilts Kevin's chin up with his free hand. Kevin can't resist reaching out, and he places both hands on Sam's bare chest just because he can. Sam's leaning down, their lips almost touching, but he doesn't connect them. Instead, he smirks again.

"What is it that you want, sweetheart?" he mutters, and Kevin's heart sings at the endearment. 

"I want you to stop stalling," Kevin replies quietly, sounding much more confident than he feels. Sam tsks and grabs Kevin's jaw a bit more firmly. 

"You're so bossy," he admonishes. He's been using the same sultry tone this whole time and it's really starting to drive Kevin crazy. 

"C'mon," he pleads, much more quietly this time as he's not sure if he actually wants Sam to hear it. Sam does hear it, of course. He cocks his head, and the grin on his face is simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing Kevin's ever seen. 

"You're just gagging for it, huh?" He sounds so amused, and Kevin realizes that Sam's teasing him. Bastard. He decides not to respond; maybe that'll speed things up. 

He was right. Sam picks up on his determined silence pretty immediately, and before he really knows it his pants have been yanked down to his ankles. As he dazedly steps out of them, he wishes he hadn't bothered to put on underwear that morning. 

Suddenly, Sam is back in his face, their foreheads touching, one strong hand threaded into his hair to keep him close. He knows it must look pretty ridiculous, but he can't bring himself to care, especially when it's so unbelievably hot to see Sam take control like this. 

"Let's try that again." Sam grins, his other hand trailing down Kevin's body but stopping just below his navel. "What do you want?"

And then Kevin gets it. Sam's not teasing him; he genuinely wants to know how to continue. 

The teasing is probably just a pleasant side effect. 

"I just want you," Kevin mumbles pathetically. Damn, when did he become such a girl? 

Thankfully, Sam only smiles and tugs at the bottom of Kevin's shirt. Kevin gets the hint, and steps back a bit so he has room to remove it completely. Once both of them are left in only their underwear, Sam gets unbearably close yet again -- so close that they're basically breathing into each other's mouths -- and Kevin never thought he'd be so into something this obscure. 

"Would you care to elaborate?" Sam suggests quietly, still smiling. "I kinda need to know what you like." 

But here's the thing: Kevin didn't actually have any clue what he wanted. Not specifically, anyway. 

"Can't we just get started and go from there?" was his response. Sam rolled his eyes playfully.

"We can do _anything_ you want, here," Sam replied. "Trust me, I've done it all." Kevin made a mental note to ask him about that later. 

"Can you just fuck me? Please?" he snapped. He was getting tired of standing here. He understood that certain prudences were probably necessary, but shouldn't Sam know by now that winging it usually turned out great anyway? 

Sam only looked at him for a moment, and then he seemed to finally get it. He got Kevin onto the bed again, and climbed on top of him. 

"Wanna see something cool?" he grinned, and Kevin wasn't sure what that could mean.

"Sure," he said anyway. 

"I have one more ability that I didn't get to tell you about," he muttered, already moving in to kiss him deeply. 

This was what he'd been expecting the first time their lips had met. The spark of arousal shot through him so fast that he didn't even have time to process it before he was eagerly bucking his hips. 

So the myth _was_ true. It was just that Sam could control it. Something about that made him smile, though he wasn't quite sure what it was.

They didn't waste any more time. 

They were both fully naked before Kevin even had the chance to really process what was happening. Sam was all over his neck; he tilted his head encouragingly and silently hoped that there would be plenty of bruises for him to admire later. He whined when Sam's mouth was suddenly gone, but went silent when the taller man shuffled over to rummage through a drawer in his bedside table. 

"I don't have condoms, is that a problem?" Sam muttered hurriedly, as if he was hoping Kevin wouldn't even notice he'd spoken at all. 

"How do you not have condoms? Isn't that like... important?" He thought he saw Sam smile.

"Well, I don't exactly have to worry about getting anyone pregnant, and STDs aren't really a problem for me... I'm kinda immune." 

"Right, of course," Kevin muttered. It made a lot of sense, really. He suddenly realized he didn't care either way. Or maybe that was the incubus saliva coursing through his very soul and fogging up his brain until his only coherent thoughts were _please_ and _fuck me_. 

Thankfully, Sam seemed to know exactly what was going on in Kevin's mind without him having to try and communicate it. He pulled a small bottle of lube out of the drawer and was back on top of Kevin in seconds. 

Suddenly there was a hand between his legs and a mouth on his ear, and Kevin almost whined at the first touch against his hole. It was sudden, almost clinical, and Kevin knew that Sam was just as eager as he was to end the foreplay and get started. He wished he'd thought ahead enough to prepare himself beforehand. 

That didn't seem to matter much, though, because Sam was very efficient when it came to sex, and Kevin was fully ready and panting within minutes. 

"C'mon," was all he could say. Sam understood anyway, and Kevin barely had any time to feel the emptiness as he withdrew his fingers before there was a thick cock pressing at his hole. 

The slide in took several long minutes, but Kevin was determined, and he ignored the slight burn when Sam finally made his first slow thrust. 

"Just relax," he heard Sam mutter. Kevin wrapped his legs around Sam's waist. He couldn't contain a whine when he felt a hand in his hair. 

Sam was gentle, loving, and Kevin leaned into his touch. He had started slow, but his hunger was starting to take over and Kevin welcomed the change of pace. He knew he had to enjoy this as much as possible so that Sam could feed, and he tilted his head back to expose his neck. Sam got the hint, licking and sucking at the exposed skin and reveling in the breathy moans it earned him. 

Sam sped up a bit more and let out a muffled groan, and Kevin bit his lip as the sound went straight to his dick. He felt Sam grin against his neck, and figured the incubus had sensed the arousal. Suddenly, Sam's mouth was right next to his ear, no longer trying to be quiet. Kevin whimpered when he felt a hand on his cock. 

He knew he was the prey in this situation, and Sam the predator, but something about Sam's labored breaths in his ear made him feel almost powerful. This big, strong, inhuman thing above him was catering to his every whim, and that alone gave him enough of a rush that he found himself suddenly dangerously close to the edge. 

He tried to let Sam know, but of course there was no need; he'd already sensed it. His hand sped up on Kevin's dick and the smaller man whimpered, his fingernails digging into Sam's back. 

"Go on, Kev," Sam half-whispered, sounding fairly close himself. "Cum for me, baby."

Kevin almost did. It took everything he had to refrain for just a few more moments, but he was determined. He clenched his ass a few times, and Sam let out a sound akin to a wounded dog. 

"You first," he challenged. "Let me feel it." Sam's hand tightened in his hair, and he grinned. 

"Would you like that?" Sam mumbled, the cockiness returning to his tone even as he panted for breath. "Would it get you off?" Kevin could only nod, no longer trusting his voice. He heard Sam's breathless chuckle, and turned his head just in time to see the grin fall from his face. 

He watched in awe as Sam fell apart, letting out an honest-to-god _growl_ as his whole body tensed up, his grip tightening until it hurt just a little. 

Kevin had been fucked before, plenty of times, but never without a condom. He wasn't expecting the warmth that flooded him from the inside, and he gasped at the foreign feeling, but immediately realized he loved it. Sam had stilled, his hips pressed forcefully against Kevin's like he was trying to sink himself in even deeper. He panted through the aftershocks, and then his hand started moving on Kevin's cock again and it was all over. 

Kevin whined and bucked his hips as the sensations all became too much. He gave in to the pleasure and came all over Sam's hand, and Sam hummed in his ear in encouragement. It took him several long moments before he could catch his breath, and when he did he melted into the bed in exhaustion. 

"Fuck," he commented weakly, and Sam grinned. 

"You okay?" Sam mumbled, giving Kevin's dick one final squeeze before letting go, leaning up on one arm to lick the cum off of his hand absentmindedly as if he had no idea how hot that looked. Kevin assessed himself for a second.

"Yeah. I'm good," he replied. 

His eyes must have been tracking Sam's mouth, because suddenly Sam was holding out his hand invitingly.

"No, no. No," Kevin says hurriedly, turning his head away, though he's grinning. "That's disgusting." Sam smiles back, and brings the hand back up to his own mouth. 

"Suit yourself," he shrugs. Suddenly, Kevin realizes something.

"Does that help with the hunger?" he asks awkwardly, looking pointedly at Sam's now spit-covered hand. 

"Not necessarily," Sam says thoughtfully, using his thumb to wipe up whatever remnants he'd missed on Kevin's stomach and bringing it back up to his mouth. "Just a habit I picked up. People usually love a little show." He grinned, sticking his entire thumb in his mouth with a wink. 

"Jesus," Kevin mumbled, a blush forming on his cheeks. 

Kevin realizes that Sam's still inside him, and tries to unwrap his legs from around Sam's waist. They flop uselessly to his sides, and Sam notices as well. He places a gentle hand on Kevin's stomach for some reason as he pulls out, and Kevin shivers a bit at the sudden emptiness. It feels wet, too; more so than could be explained by the lube. He's confused for a second before he realizes what it is, and the light blush on his face darkens. 

"You want me to...?" Sam gestures vaguely, noticing the expression on Kevin's face. He ducks his head a little, as if he was making his way down... 

"Why on Earth would you wanna do that?" 

"Cuz I know you'd like it," Sam shrugs. "And I can't taste anything anyway." 

Oh yeah. 

Kevin hadn't thought he could cum again, but Sam took his sweet time cleaning him up and his tongue just felt so good, Kevin was hard again by the time he'd finished. So he'd kept going until he'd worked a second orgasm out of Kevin, and of course he cleaned up that mess too. 

"Okay, okay, no more," Kevin giggled as Sam's tongue laved over his stomach one more time, making sure he'd gotten everything. Sam looked up at him from under the curtain of hair that had fallen in his face, his eyes shining. Kevin could tell Sam was well-fed simply from how content he looked, and he was proud to have been the cause of that. 

Sam crawled back up to hover over him, leaning down for a kiss. Kevin turned his head, and Sam connected with his cheek. 

"Not with that mouth," he protested. Sam didn't seem to mind the rejection, and flopped down on his side next to Kevin instead. 

Wait a minute. 

"I didn't pass out this time," Kevin observes out loud, and Sam grins. 

"You had plenty to give," was his answer. "I got more than I needed, and there was still a lot left." He pulled Kevin into his arms, and they just laid like that for a long moment. 

Normally after he had sex, Kevin would shy away from the cuddling part. He was used to just taking his money and leaving. Once the pleasure was gone, he was filled with shame and wanted nothing more than to run away and be alone for a while. He'd been afraid that this would happen with Sam too, but it's different somehow. Kevin is happy. Everything is different with Sam. 

"Are you tired at all?" Sam spoke quietly, probably not wanting to ruin the silence. 

"Not really," Kevin replied with the same tone. 

"Good," Sam chuckled at a normal volume this time, propping himself up on one elbow. "So what do you wanna do?" 

Kevin is slightly taken aback by the question. Sam is almost childish in his excitement, and Kevin decides he loves it. From now on, he'll make sure it's always like this. 

"Do we have any food left?" Kevin replies, somewhat accusatorily. "I'm kinda hungry." Sam glances away for a moment. 

"I didn't eat _everything_ ," he remarks. 

Kevin threw Sam's shirt on (because he was cold, _not_ because he liked the way it smelled), and they both went downstairs to the kitchen. Kevin rooted around for a while, finding a lot of empty containers. Finally, he found a single apple. 

They sat together on the couch in the living room, and Sam seemed weirdly comfortable with the fact that he was still entirely naked. Not that Kevin was complaining, of course. 

"How about once every other week?" Kevin spoke up before taking a bite of his apple. 

"What?" Sam looked confused. 

"Feeding," Kevin replied easily, even with his mouth full. "We need to get you on a schedule so you'll stay out of my shit." 

"I already told you I'm gonna buy you more food," Sam promised. 

"Damn right," Kevin agreed. " _And_ you're make the extra hours' drive to the farmer's market to get better apples." He looked down at the apple in his hand, grimacing a little at the taste. 

"Deal," Sam concurred. He smiled, and Kevin smiled back. Leaning into Sam's side, he noted the domesticity of their situation. 

It was strange how quickly Kevin had gotten used to this. He knew that it shouldn't have been this easy, that he should have at least _tried_ to escape, but something told him that he belonged here. Sam had treated him so well this far, and it wasn't like he'd left anything behind. His old life was infinitely worse than here. 

"Every other week sounds fine," Sam decided after a long silence, wrapping an arm around Kevin. 

As Kevin ate his almost-decent apple, he was suddenly overwhelmed with just _how_ comfortable he was with this new life. It was dizzying, and as Sam smiled warmly down at him an intrusive thought crossed his mind.

 _I love you._

"I love it here," he said instead, and Sam visibly melted at the sentiment. 

"That's good," he replied, sounding so genuine that Kevin's heart soared just a little bit. "I'm glad."

They watched movies for the rest of that day, and when it was time for bed, Kevin passed his own bedroom and followed Sam into his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Kevin was a male prostitute. This has been heavily hinted at for a while now, but just so there's no confusion. He's definitely no stranger to sex. 
> 
> Also, quick question: how would you guys feel about Dean making an appearance? 
> 
> ~~It's already in the works but I mean like should there be any reference to past wincest drama or do I need to calm down~~


	5. The Impala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait on this one. I had pretty bad writer's block for a while before mid-terms kicked my ass a little and then there was that whole bombshell about the show ending next season that crushed my motivation. Insert more excuses here. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for the two-month wait. I don't know if I'm happy with the direction of the plot so please provide as much feedback as you wish. Positive or negative. I can take it.

It was approaching six months since Kevin arrived, and they'd stuck to a strict feeding schedule. Sam was thriving; he hadn't been hungry in months. Kevin was thriving, too; he was even starting to get fairly good at cooking. Sam sort of felt bad that he had to take Kevin's word for it since he couldn't actually taste the food himself, but Kevin didn't mind. 

Kevin had officially moved into Sam's room, his old room becoming a guest room once more. He'd quickly discovered that Sam liked to sleep naked, and it wasn't unusual for him to wander out of bed like that most mornings, with sleepy eyes and hair all tousled. It was cute, really. 

Sam had also noticed some things about Kevin's sleeping habits. He was a lot like a mouse, in that he liked to build weird nests out of the blankets to sleep in. It made Sam sweat just to watch. Kevin had explained to him that it was a habit he'd picked up when he was living on the streets; winters were cold when you were stuck outside all the time, and layers are apparently very important. His makeshift nests became familiar to him after a while, and he claimed he liked the comfort. Sam didn't complain, but it did eventually get bad enough that he had to set aside one blanket for himself that Kevin was _not_ allowed to steal. 

Sam had also noticed that a couple of his shirts had gone missing, and he was almost positive that Kevin must be squirreling them away somewhere. Maybe in that nest. 

During his fourth month with Sam, Kevin had been given his very own smartphone. It had taken him weeks to learn how to use it, and he mostly only took it out to listen to music or look up new recipes online. Occasionally, he would use it to take candid photos of Sam "in the wild," as he called it. After a couple weeks, Sam started doing this too, and it became a fun little game of theirs to see who could get the best picture without being seen. Of course, the rest of the photos they took of each other were completely consensual and much less innocent. 

Things were good. 

And then one day, when Kevin was making his first attempt at chili, he had his earbuds in and didn't hear the knock on the door. He did happen to glance out the window, however, and noticed that there was a shiny black car parked in the driveway. It looked like an old model – definitely something that doesn't get made anymore – but it was very well-taken-care-of and glistened in the sunlight like it was brand new. He turned off his music, and this time he heard the knock. Putting his phone down on the coffee table, he tried to decide what to do. 

Sam had never said anything against him opening the door, but God knows who could be out there. Kevin can deal with hunters; there's no evidence in the house whatsoever that Sam is anything but human, so that's not a problem. It's the monsters that Kevin's worried about.

He'd met a couple of the neighbors, and so far they'd been alright, but he knew that monsters weren't _all_ like that. Sam had a close relationship with the family of werewolves that lived next door, however, and they'd grown fond enough of Kevin to promise him that they'd come running to his aid if they ever sensed anything off. He'd cut his finger once while chopping vegetables, and the father, Garth, had been at the front door minutes later to make sure he was okay. It was a little creepy, but it did make him feel safer. 

As he calmed himself enough to open the door, he prayed that at least one of them was home. 

The man in front of him was tall, but not quite as tall as Sam, and his face looked oddly familiar somehow. He smiled politely. 

"Hi, is there a Sam here?" He asked. 

"Who's asking?" 

"I'm his brother." 

There's an old black and white photo in a frame on Sam's nightstand, in which he and Dean are sitting together on the hood of that car that was parked out front. 

_It was the late '60s,_ Sam's fond voice rung out in his head. _Dean fell in love with that car the moment he saw it._

"Dean," Kevin observed aloud, and Dean smiled. "Winchester?" 

At the mention of his real last name, Dean blinks in surprise and chuckles nervously. 

"Uh..." 

"We're together," Kevin explains. "Me and Sam. I know what you are." 

Dean looks at him skeptically, but doesn't respond. 

"Sam's out shopping right now, but you can come on in," Kevin said hurriedly, stepping aside to let him in and close the door behind him. Dean stands in the living room, looking around absentmindedly. 

"Oh, uh... I'm Kevin, by the way." He holds out his left hand for Dean to shake, and he does, but not without glancing at the missing finger that Kevin always seems to forget about. He doesn't say anything, however. 

Kevin goes back to his chili, turning the heat off before he can manage to burn it somehow. He's burned a lot of things. 

Dean is picking through the bookshelf in the living room and smiling about something. Only now does Kevin notice the dark circles under his eyes. 

"Are you hungry?" He asks, out of habit. Dean looks understandably startled for a moment, but when Kevin gestures hurriedly to the pot on the stove, he quickly composes himself. 

"No, I'm okay, thanks," he stutters. Kevin's not sure if eating normal food is a habit that's exclusive to Sam, so he lets it go. 

They sit on the couch, and it's notably awkward for a long moment. He has a lot of questions, and he's sure Dean does too, but it takes a while for one of them to break the silence.

"So, you and Sam, huh?" Dean mumbles, and Kevin nods. "How long?" 

"About 6 months." 

"And you already live together?" 

"That's a bit of a funny story, actually," Kevin chuckles. 

He finds himself telling it anyway, and Dean seems very amused at the fact that his overly-ethical little brother would ever consider kidnapping someone. 

They talk for another hour, and Kevin feels weirdly comfortable with Dean. He's almost positive now that incubi must all have that calming aura about them that he originally thought was just a Sam thing. 

Then, Kevin hears the back door swing open loudly, and there's the rustling of bags in the kitchen followed by a thud that indicates said bags being dropped on the floor. Sam all but runs into the room, looking almost panicked, and he locks eyes with Dean immediately. 

He must have seen the car outside. 

There's a tense silence that follows, and for a few long seconds Kevin isn't sure whether or not Sam is happy about his brother's sudden reappearance. His wide-eyed expression is weirdly unreadable. Dean stands up, and when he darts forward with an equally unreadable expression, Kevin almost thinks he's about to witness a fight. 

They collide roughly into a tight hug, and Kevin is very relieved. 

"Hey, Sammy," Dean mumbled brightly into Sam's shoulder. When they parted, Sam's eyes were shining with unshed tears. 

"Where the hell have you been?" He sounded almost juvenile. 

"All over, really," Dean answered. 

Sam must not know what to say to that, because it's quiet again for a while. Suddenly, he seems to finally notice the state Dean's in. 

"You look like shit," he observes, almost reproachfully. 

"Thanks," Dean scoffs, averting his gaze. There's a pause.

"What are you doing here?" Sam questions, looking suspicious. 

"I wanted to talk to you," Dean replies quietly, with a not-so-subtle glance at Kevin. Sam looks hesitant, but he complies. 

"Kev, can we have a minute?" he mumbles, and Kevin nods quickly, heading up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. He's honestly a bit eager to get away from the awkward reunion, but even as he closes the door behind him he can't help but wonder exactly what it is that they're discussing. It sounded serious. 

He sits on the bed for several long minutes. He's tempted to play a game on his phone to pass the time, but he realizes that he left it downstairs, and flops onto his back to stare at the ceiling for a while instead. The house isn't incredibly big, and the walls aren't too thick, so he can hear the distant mumbling through the floor. He can't make out any words, but he focuses on the noise anyway. 

It seems to take forever, but eventually the talking stops, and Kevin can hear the back door opening as well as the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Sam comes into the room moments later, and Kevin sits up expectantly. 

"What's up?" he prompts when Sam doesn't speak right away. 

"Dean's gonna stay here for a while," is the answer. 

"Okay," Kevin says slowly. 

"Did he say anything to you? Before I got here?" 

"About what?" 

Sam gives him a look that says _you know exactly what I'm talking about_.

Oh. That.

"No, he didn't say anything," Kevin answers. "He's gonna have to feed soon, though." Sam seems unsure of how to respond to that. 

"He'll figure it out," he mutters. 

"Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" Kevin hadn't meant for that to sound so passive-agressive. He was just curious. 

"Don't worry about it," Sam replied. He'd been leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed absentmindedly, but he turns his head at the sound of the back door opening again. 

"You're okay with him staying here, right?" Sam checks. 

"Of course," is Kevin's reply. "He's your brother." 

Sam nods, and through the open door Kevin sees Dean appear with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Sam gestures to the guest room when he hears the movement behind him. He doesn't even turn around, and Dean follows the direction without a word. Kevin supposes they just knew each other that well. It was almost fascinating to watch. Kevin had been an only child, so he couldn't tell whether or not that was typical sibling behavior. 

"Do we wanna have dinner?" Sam prompted, as if that was a normal question to ask. 

Well, it _was_ , technically, but not for them. 

"I'll go heat it up," Kevin responded, easily taking the bait. He got off the bed and started to make his way to the door. Sam was still standing there, and Kevin had expected him to move, but he didn't. He pulled Kevin into a loose hug and leaned down as if to kiss him. 

"I'd heat up last week's, too," Sam whispered faintly just before their lips touched. Kevin grinned at the comment. He's well aware of what happens when an incubus gets hungry. 

* 

Sam hadn't been joking. Not at all. Dean managed to eat all of the chili (barring the one bowl that Kevin had taken for himself), all of the leftover pasta from three or four days ago, and every last apple, orange, and pear in the fridge. Even Sam hadn't eaten like _that_. It was a little concerning to watch, but Sam seemed unfazed. He hadn't eaten anything himself, since he rarely ever got hungry enough anymore. Normally, he would try Kevin's food out of courtesy, but he seemed to have decided that Dean needed every bit he could get. Even Kevin felt slightly guilty for eating as much as he did, though he'd been starving. After all that food, Dean only looked marginally better. 

The three of them had talked for hours that evening, and most of it was just Sam and Dean catching up with each other. It had been a couple decades since they last spoke, and they each had new stories to tell. 

Apparently, Dean had been in a car crash in 2006, and he'd had to escape from the hospital before they could realize the unexplainable speed at which he was healing. That was in Missouri, and he'd been a Johnson then. Now he was Campbell. 

The sudden disappearance of Dean Johnson was now one of the greatest mysteries in the state. Stories with titles like "Man in Coma Is Stolen from His Hospital Bed" are apparently still circulating today. Dean has since added Missouri to the list of places that he can't go back to, at least not for the next hundred years or so.

Sam laughs out loud at this story, amused by the fact that Dean had had to practically fake his own death again. Apparently, faking his own death was a common practice for Dean. He's much less careful than Sam, who manages to keep one name for nearly three times as long. 

Sam had stories too, and Kevin learned about the time that he'd been hit with a love spell and forced into marrying an aspiring young witch. She'd wanted a "pet" that could protect her as well as keep her company. The spell had faltered, however, and Sam managed to escape with minimal psychological damage. 

Kevin didn't have any stories. He was young, and he was human. Nothing he said could ever be nearly as interesting as the escapades that the incubi had described. They insisted, however, so he told them about the time in high school when he was peer-pressured into trying marijuana for the first time, and he hadn't even gotten high from it. Dean seemed intrigued by this, and shared a few drug-related stories of his own, but Sam's uncomfortable (and likely disapproving) silence made them change the subject after a few short minutes. 

Overall, Kevin had a great time. He could already tell he was really going to like Dean. He was the exact opposite of Sam, but he was just as charming. At some point, Kevin did wonder why he felt so at ease with these creatures that were more than twice his size and could easily kill him without even breaking a sweat, but he didn't necessarily care about the answer. He just knew that he was happy, and that was enough for him. 

That night, when he curled up against Sam's chest, he felt an odd sense of pride at how his life had turned out. He had swept his "nest," as Sam called it, off of the bed and onto the floor. He decided that he didn't need it, when he had Sam right there to keep him comfortable instead. He'd pick up all of the loose blankets and stolen clothing items in the morning. 

* 

Sam was gone when he woke up. He dragged himself out of bed to go make a cup of coffee, and accidentally caught Sam and Dean whispering to each other in the kitchen. 

"You're not leaving here until we figure out what's going on," came Sam's voice. 

"It's probably just some hunter," Dean replied. "I don't think there's anything to worry about." 

"Then why do you want to go check it out so badly?" 

"They were our parents." 

"So? We haven't seen them in over a century. I barely remember what they looked like. You're _not_ going out there and risking getting yourself killed." 

"Aww, are you worried about me, Sammy?" 

"I have to worry. You're an idiot. If I didn't worry, you'd be dead by now." 

Kevin didn't like eavesdropping, so he forced himself to stop listening and entered the kitchen as loudly as he could without seeming suspicious. 

The brothers had been sitting at the table, very close together so that they could speak as quietly as possible. Their heads both snapped up when Kevin walked in, and they leaned away from each other. 

"Morning," Sam said cheerily, and Kevin smiled back. He headed for the coffee machine, noting that a fresh pot had already been brewed, and reached into the cabinet for a mug just as Sam made his way over to greet him properly. 

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, and a kiss was pressed to the top of his head. Kevin leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to try and grin at Sam upside-down. This was something that they did nearly every morning, but they had an audience this time.

"Let the man have his coffee, Sam," Dean teased from the other side of the room, sounding amused. Kevin blushed and pulled away. Sam seemed less eager to separate, but let him go. 

"You suck," Sam said to Dean. Dean only grinned at him. 

Once Kevin had gotten his coffee, he stood up on his tiptoes to try and kiss Sam, who looked a little deflated by Dean's taunting. Sam bent down to meet his lips, and smiled at the gesture when they parted. They all sat down at the table together, Sam almost suspiciously close to Kevin, and Kevin tried to start a conversation to avoid any awkward silence that might have developed. 

"So what were you guys talking about in here?" he tried carefully. Sam and Dean glanced at each other very briefly. 

"Just catching up," Sam shrugged, lying easily. "Nothing important." 

Kevin didn't want to pry if they weren't ready to tell him, so he nodded and let it go. He was extremely curious about whatever had apparently happened to their parents, but he also believed in privacy. 

"Is there any food left?" Dean spoke up, changing the subject. 

"I could make some bacon," Kevin offered. 

"I guess I'm gonna have to do some more shopping," Sam teased. "Even though I _just_ went out yesterday." 

"That's not my fault," Dean replied. "You should've bought more." 

"I thought I was shopping for _one_ person, not twelve. When's the last time you fed, anyway?" 

Dean thought for a moment. "About a month ago." 

"Jesus, Dean, you're gonna kill yourself." 

Dean just shrugged. "I keep putting it off. It's just so much work to really get laid these days." 

"The longer you wait, the more you'll need," Sam scolded. 

"Stop worrying about me," Dean snapped. "We can't all just go and get lucky with an infinite source like you did, Sam. Some of us still have to _work_ for what we need, every damn time, and it's exhausting. So get off my back." 

Sam was silent after that. Kevin tried to alleviate the tension, but he was never great at reading people. 

"If you wanna go shopping, I could start on breakfast," he told Sam, very cautiously. 

"And leave you here alone with him? No thanks. He can do his own damn shopping." 

Then, Kevin understood. Sam had mentioned before that he and Dean used to fight over people, but Kevin hadn't really connected the dots until now. Sam felt threatened by Dean's presence; subconsciously, at least. And since Dean was starving himself, his shortened temper was making everything much worse. 

But now that he knew what the problem was, he had no clue how to fix it. He could say that he'd never betray Sam like that, but he knew he wasn't strong enough to resist the drug-like magic of an incubus, whether he wanted to or not. Dean could easily overpower him. So really, the promise had to come from Dean, and it wasn't likely that he'd agree to that.

He could also offer Dean some sort of one-time deal, but that would definitely piss Sam off. He didn't feel like seeing a fight today. So, he did the only thing he could think of, and got up to go get the bacon. 

Breakfast was tense. Kevin had given all of it to Dean, opting to just finish his coffee instead, since he rarely ate this early anyway. Dean was the one who ended up breaking the silence. 

"You're smart, Sam," he mumbled, through a mouthful of bacon. "Havin' him here. You don't have to worry about starving all the time." Judging by his tone, Kevin guessed that this was probably as close as these two ever got to apologizing.

"It's not that smart," Sam answered quietly. "It was a risk. I'm really lucky he's such a great guy." Kevin blushed as Sam's hand tightened around his own. They'd been slowly inching closer together throughout the past few minutes. 

"Luck or not, I'm kinda jealous," Dean muttered. 

"No shit. You're practically dying." 

"Maybe I should've fed before I got here," Dean agreed. "I just didn't think you'd ever settle down." 

Kevin had decided that silence was his best option during this exchange, in case he accidentally said something to ruin the peace between the brothers. As it turned out, they did just fine ruining the peace all by themselves. 

"Why would you come here hungry?" Sam questioned. There was an accusatory tone in his voice, and Kevin tried to remind him to calm down by squeezing his hand. It didn't work, of course. "You knew damn well this would happen." 

"I wanted to see you," Dean defended himself, finally losing his composure. "How the hell was I supposed to know you had such a pretty little _boyfriend_ running around?" 

Dean wasn't exactly flirting with Kevin; the statement was angry and sounded much more like a blow at Sam than anything else. 

And then they were both out of their chairs. 

Sam had Dean pinned against the wall, their faces dangerously close. 

"Don't you _ever_ lay a hand on him, you hear me?" Sam growled, loud and scary like he was ready to kill someone. 

"Sam," Kevin tried gently, willing his voice not to quiver. He wanted to break up the fight, but he sure as hell wasn't stupid enough to get too close. He didn't really know what to do, so he sat there in shock, his coffee long forgotten. They both ignored him. 

Dean didn't even struggle; maybe he was too weak to fight back. But he also didn't seem to be alarmed at all by Sam's behavior. He even _smiled_. 

"What are you gonna do, Sammy? Kill me?" he sounded amused, and Sam only got angrier.

"You always do this to me!" he exploded. "You think you can just help yourself to everything that's mine! I swear to God, Dean, if you ever get anywhere near Kevin, you're out of here, and I'll make damn sure I never see you again!" 

Dean wasn't smiling anymore, at least. He looked at Sam for a long moment. "Would you relax?" he grumbled. "I'm not gonna touch him, Sam. I've never done that to you. I talked about it, but I never did it. You do know that, right?" 

"I don't give a shit _what_ you did," Sam argued. "You're still a prick." 

No one said anything. Dean just looked steadily at Sam until the taller man finally let him go, stepping back to let him off the wall. He paused for a moment, however, and before Kevin could get up to stop him he punched Dean in the face. Dean stumbled backward a bit, and touched his cheek briefly, but otherwise there was no real reaction. He gave Sam a glare, and then he was out the door to the garage. 

Kevin had no idea what to do. He'd never seen Sam angry before, and it was making him nervous. He was fairly sure that Sam would never hurt him, but he couldn't help the spike of fear he felt when Sam turned to face him. 

Sam, however, did not look angry in the slightest. He just looked defeated, and when his eyes met Kevin's he immediately lowered his gaze to the floor. Kevin thought he saw tears. Sam looked so miserable; Kevin knew he had to say something. 

"Are you okay?" he tried quietly. He didn't get an answer. Sam merely walked past Kevin on his way out of the kitchen.

He was halfway into the living room before he mumbled, "I'm gonna take a shower" and then disappeared up the stairs moments later. Kevin let him go, deciding it might be best to give him some space for now. 

When he was alone, he checked the garage briefly just to see if Dean had stuck around, but there was no sign of him and his car was gone. He hadn't taken any of his stuff, with him, however, so Kevin figured he'd be back eventually. He found himself dreading it. 

Desperate for something to distract himself with, he sat down in the living room and turned on the television. It had been left on some news channel, and the current headline caught his attention. 

_BREAKING NEWS: COUPLE'S MURDERER FOUND_. 

He turned up the volume to listen to the story, and a bored-sounding reporter gave more details as pictures of the couple showed on the screen. 

"...This truly heartbreaking story: John and Mary Walker were found dead in their home late Sunday evening, both with silver daggers through their hearts. The murder was revealed to be premeditated, and a suspect _has_ been found." (A mugshot was shown then.) "29-year-old Cole Trenton was taken into custody last night, and has since pleaded guilty to all charges. Police will not disclose any further information just yet, other than the fact that Trenton admitted he had planned this murder for _days_ before it was carried out, and an arsenal of highly illegal weapons was found in his possession. No further comment has been made by Trenton or by his lawyer, but more on this story will be coming very soon. Back to you, Rob." 

"Thank you, Maggie. That is truly heartbreaking new-" 

Kevin turned the television back off, deciding he didn't want to hear it anymore. He just laid on the couch in silence for a while, trying to clear his mind. Many minutes later when he heard the water shut off upstairs, Kevin went up to meet Sam on the way out of the bathroom. 

"I'm sorry, Kev," he mumbled immediately, as if he'd been planning his words carefully. "I shouldn't have freaked out like that. Not in front of you." 

"I'm not mad," Kevin replied, walking over to slip his arms around Sam's neck. "He was provoking you. I don't blame you for telling him off." There was a pause as Sam digested these words. 

"You're impossible," he chuckled. 

"What do you mean?"

"I've done some really stupid shit, and I don't think you've ever really gotten mad at me _once_ ," Sam explained, looking amused. 

"That's not true," Kevin argued. "I gave you hell for eating all my mac and cheese." They both laughed. 

"That one doesn't count," Sam said affectionately. "You weren't actually mad." 

"Well, I guess I just can't get mad at you then," Kevin concluded. Sam smiled. 

And then, there it was. 

"I love you." 

It was so faint, Kevin almost thought he was just hearing things. But Sam was looking at him like he'd just revealed some horrible secret, and he had to grin. 

"I love you too, you doof," he admitted, and Sam visibly relaxed. It felt good to finally let that out. 

And with the two of them standing in the middle of that hallway, Sam soaking wet and wearing only a towel, Kevin felt truly at home. They found themselves in their bed shortly after, worshiping each other like it hadn't only been three days since they'd last had sex. And they clearly weren't in any kind of rush. It turned into an all-day affair. And when Kevin started getting hungry a few hours in, he ate the cold remainder of Dean's bacon that had been abandoned on the kitchen table. 

By the time Kevin came for the third time, it was getting dark out and Dean still hadn't come back. Sam's hair had dried weirdly and was sticking out in every direction, and as Kevin struggled to regain control of his limbs he ran his hands through it and smiled. 

He tried to move his legs from around Sam's waist, but a jolt of pain shot through them and he groaned. 

"Fuck, help me," he giggled. 

Sam grinned, and after many long minutes of careful maneuvering he was comfortably wrapped in Sam's arms. There was a pleasant ache in his body, like he got when he was thoroughly fucked out, and in that moment he wouldn't have moved a muscle even for all the money in the world. 

He'd learned how to tell when Sam had fed off of him, and he took a moment to check. For the most part, Sam hadn't fed. He'd taken a little bit at one point, probably to take the edge off his temper so he could survive the rest of Dean's visit. Kevin didn't acknowledge this out loud, because he was pretty sure Sam still thought Kevin wouldn't notice anything missing as long as he fed in small amounts. Kevin never really felt like addressing this, so he'd just ignored it. Whatever it took to get Sam to feed. 

They were half asleep when a thought crossed Kevin's mind. 

"Hey, Sam?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What are your parents' names?"

"John and Mary. Why?" 

"No reason."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts on how this should conclude? Please let me know. I literally have no good ideas and it's stressing me out.
> 
> Also: Wincest. Yay or nay? I'm considering ways to get Dean fed (involving both Sam and Kevin), but I don't know if I wanna go down that rabbit hole for this particular story.


End file.
